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.Sergeants shouted at the men, officers tutted and waited for the maelstrom to come to order, horses shied and whinnied and men grunted and called out that they were ready and reporting for duty.Satisfied that all were there who were fit – there were always those too unwell to take part in active duty – the company was ordered to shoulder arms and march out of camp.Casca, once again on foot, led the men out of the camp and along the road to Philadelphia.The capital was full of cheering people and some women threw flowers at the troops as they marched through.Congress turned it into a full scale parade, ordering Washington to slow the men’s rate of march down as they went through the wide streets so that the citizens could see the large numbers of troops and how well they were turned out.The men grinned and were heartened by the show of support they were receiving as they passed through.Casca walked along the side of his troops, getting special attention as he was an officer.As he was passing through Front Street, close to the Philadelphia Coffee House, a voice called out to him.“Major Lonnergan! Over here!”He looked round and saw to his surprise Claire Kelly waving at him frantically.Casca stopped and allowed the rest of his unit to pass.As Captain Soderling, marching at the rear, came past, Casca nodded in Claire’s direction.“I’m wanted, Captain.Will be back shortly.Carry on, I’ll catch you up.”“Very good, sir,” Soderling said in a disapproving voice.Casca nudged aside a couple of townsfolk and took Claire’s hand.“What’s the matter, Miss Kelly?”Claire leaned forward and spoke into Casca’s ear.“Rose has given birth to a boy! Yesterday.She’s going to call him Cass!”Casca looked at Claire in surprise.“Well, I’ll be damned.Is she, by hell? I’ll have to somehow come and see her – if we can work round that fool Lowe, that is.”“Don’t worry,” Claire smiled, “I’ll arrange it.He’s always away during the day and I’m betting he won’t wish to be around much now the kid’s born.If ye ask me, Case, I’m thinking he wants Rose out and back with Sir Richard.”“Oh for Christ’s sake!” Casca exploded.“What’s he got for brains? What does Katherine say about it?”“She’s against it of course, but Lowe’s such an arse and I’m thinking he’s going to get his way.He’ll invite Sir Richard to the house to pick up the kid.He doesn’t like children, ye see.”“Damned man.” Casca thought for a moment, ignoring the pats on the backs from the enthusiastic townsfolk.“Once we’re in camp I’ll write to you at your home and we’ll work out some scheme for me to see Rose and Katherine.Alright?”“Ye’re on,” Claire agreed.“Now ye’d be best on ye’re way now.”Casca kissed her hand and touched the brim of his hat and trotted after his men, his mind whirling.So Sir Richard was a father; that would make his determination all the more intense.Lowe was playing with fire, not to mention putting Rose in grave danger.He was considering whether Rose would be better off away from that household.And what if the British took control of the city? What then? Sir Richard would certainly seek to get his hands on his son, the next Baronet Sandwell.Oh dear God.They marched to a place called Wilmington, down the Delaware River, blocking any advance the now landed British would make directly to the American capital.Casca joined in digging the defenses, much to the amusement of his men and the disapproval of his fellow officers.He cared not for all he wanted to do was to keep himself busy, and the hard work in the sun of late August also felt good.He stripped off his shirt and toiled hard, the sweat glistening on his chest and back and he knew the men and officers were looking at his scars.His body was a mass of criss-crossed lines, many of them a legacy of his wars in the centuries past; wars for and against Islam, Viking raids, the many times he’d fought for Rome and her offspring, Byzantium, the Crusades, wars in the far east for Japanese warlords, Chinese emperors and of course, the Mongols.Wars fought for England against the French.They just went on and on.Then had come gunpowder and the small but deadly projectiles it spat out.Some of his wounds were bullet wounds but he found they didn’t leave as big a scar as the swords and other bladed weapons had [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]